Chapter 5: The Smithy and Shovels

Linea Vitreal stood on a balcony, his hands folded behind his back, gazing out over Realvi. He watched as the sun set slowly,  the last vestiges of light disappeared behind the horizon, a wine glass in hand. The fall of night marked the end of Linea Vitreal’s first day in this world. In some ways, he still didn’t entirely understand what had happened. When he tried recalling memories from Earth, they felt strangely detached, as if they were nothing more than scenes from a movie rather than his own life. Yet when he probed into his new body’s memories, he felt a strange void. He could feel something there, but it lay under an impenetrable veil of darkness. He thought back to another question he had written in the book:

 

Will I recall Linea Vitreal’s old memories?

 

Error- You have asked too many questions, please earn karma before asking more questions. 

 

Required Gained Karma for Answer: 250 

 

Current Gained Karma: 0

Current Total Karma: -27.3 million

 

It seemed that from now he would have to earn the answers to future questions. That was fine. When the sun came up the next day, his first endeavor would be underway. He gave a smirk. The core of a wealthy population is a skilled population. There was no point handing out money if the only thing they did with it was to buy was land. 

 

For example, say he gave a single commoner a gold coin. Delighted by their good fortune, they rush out into the rural areas to purchase land as far from the miserable city as possible. Once they own the land, what happens after? Absolutely nothing. The commoner is still in the same position, albeit with a nicer home, even worse, that rural land isn’t productive, the commoner is likely not a farmer. In other words, the gold coin didn’t become more valuable, it wasn’t an investment. 

 

A proper investment would be schooling. Say for example that same commoner spent his gold coin on gaining an apprenticeship with a blacksmith. Now, the commoner has the ability to earn dozens of gold coins in the future. That gold coin, coupled with time and effort became something far more valuable, a productive skill.

 

However, a skill was meaningless if the general population couldn’t afford it for themselves. Say the freshly appointed blacksmith commoner went to work in Realvi. There wasn’t a point was there? The vast majority of the population couldn’t afford to buy anything from the blacksmith, nor did they need to. Most of what they earned was spent on food. 

 

The driver of an economy was consumer spending. If his people had money to spend, they would go to restaurants, buy fancy clothing, and treat themselves. The restaurant owners and clothing store owners would then in turn take that money and pay their employees. Their employees would then purchase some new furniture from a carpenter, or maybe a perfume. The carpenter or perfumer would then go on and spend that money they gained or more stuff. Viola, a growing, thriving economy has been born. 

 

So how on Earth… err Aistel, could Linea create an economy in Realvi? Simple really, government projects. Massive sums of money would be spent in exchange for menial labor. Word of the massive amount of spending money that the commoners of Realvi were earning would spread. Merchants, lured by the scent of money, would arrive in droves, luxury goods in tow. A taste of luxury that would whet the appetites of his people. As more and more money made its way into Realvi, more and more people would look for a way to make money. Full-fledged businesses would open, restaurants, carpenters, they would all feel their desire grow a thousand-fold as the taste of gold and luxury would drive their envy. All the while the land around Realvi would skyrocket in value. Land which is entirely owned by the Duchy. And from there, it was only up. 

 

It wasn’t a fool proof plan. If he failed to keep his peoples hopes high, they would flee Reavli with their new-found wealth, to other duchies or into the countryside. Criminal gangs could pop up, trying to ‘tax’ his citizens. And magic? He had no idea to what extent magic could influence his plans. Perhaps a mage could dig an entire canal with a wave of their hands, rendering the labor of the commoners meaningless. There was also the chance that his project could completely fail, draining his resources without a proper return. But such were the risks of an investment. Linea felt goosebumps travel down his arms as he imagined an entire city come to life. I wonder how much Karma I’ll gain. 

 

Two projects came to mind, but both required tools in quantities he didn’t have. He quietly sipped the wine. It was high quality, but despite the fact he’d already consumed half the bottle, he felt completely fine. Not a hiccup or sway. Fuck. I can’t get drunk. There was no way he could sleep. The pain he felt during his punishment, every time he thought about it, the millions of years of it he would face, he could feel his heartbeat skyrocket. His palms would become sweaty. He put the wine glass down before his shaking caused it to fall and gripped the railings of the balcony for steadiness. He would not, no he could not fail.

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Early in the morning, the sun had yet to rise, and Linea sat on a chair in his room. 

 

“...requesting a mage is impossible. Being a mage is strictly regulated in the Kingdom. They are renowned but are almost exclusively involved with the military. Civilian usage is extremely restricted. A single D class mage could topple a building. And the S class mages who reside in the Kingdom’s capital? They could level a city on their own. On top of that, even if we were to *cough* have a mage *cough* The price they command is steep.”

 

“How much then?”

 

“It is anywhere from 200 to 300 gold for a D class mage all the way to 2,000,000 to 3,000,000 gold for an S class mage. You can purchase the services of an F class mage for 10 to 20 gold, but they are so weak that a single commoner with an ax can deal more damage.” The Duke seemed to have misunderstood the reason he was asking for mages, but that didn’t matter. 

 

“Father, how quickly can we secure high quality shovels?” Linea wasn’t quite sure why he couldn’t think of the Duke as anything but his father. It was almost a subconscious impulse. 

 

“Forgive me, did you say shovels?”

 

“Yes”

 

“...” Linea watched as the black glowing crystal fell silent. It was part of the secure connection that he had requested. Two mana crystals enchanted with [communication]. It worked like a magic intercom. 

 

“Currently, I guess we would have around 20 shovels that are used by the gardeners. The main manor only has three or so smiths, and they make most of our weapons and such, but for such a large number, I think it would take far too long and cost far to employ them.”

 

“Only three smiths make all of our weapons?”

 

“Indeed, but they are all B rank or higher. However, make is an overstatement. Most of our weapons are very old, the smiths merely maintain and repair them. Although they are far more time efficient at making weapons than lower ranked smiths, they are not as gold efficient. The smithies in Realvi are better suited for mass producing shovels but that could take quite some time.”

 

“Hmmm. Can we have them progressively shipped? Batch by batch as soon as they are finished?” 

 

“That shouldn’t be an issue, just slightly more expensive transportation costs.”

 

“That’s perfect, how much will the shovels themselves cost?”

 

“...” A bit more silence followed.

 

“Forgive me, it is difficult to get an estimate.”

 

“That is fine, I will deal with the prices. Have you prepared the money?”

 

“That should be done by later today. Have you mapped the areas you needed to purchase?”

 

“Yes Father, I will send them to you in a few minutes.” Fuck, I did it again. He stared down at the map of Realvi. The river that ran through the city, Thrael River, flowed roughly from the Northeast to South through the center of the city. The city itself was a large circle wrapping around the river. It was at most about 2 kilometers radius. On the map he had before him, small branches had been marked out trailing from the river to the outer edge of the city. Indeed. The first thing he was going to build was a sewage system. It would be rudimentary, nothing more than a series of troughs that made their way into canals that emptied the waste at areas they could be treated. But the miracle if such a system worked… He might not even have to wear that enchanted mask as he walked through the city. 

 

“The map is by no means unchangeable, if you can find a cheaper way to achieve a similar route then do not hesitate to change the plans.”

 

“Then that is everything. I hope your plan is everything you wish for it to be”

 

“It will be, and it will be so much more. Watch father, as I bring a city to life.” With that, he ended the call and stuffed the gem in his pocket. 

 

He called a maid to him. “I will be in the city for a few days. Prepare accordingly.” It was time to begin. 

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So this was it. Just a sign with the picture of a hammer and an anvil. Apparently there were 3 smithies in Realvi, yet you couldn’t even tell the building in front of him was a smithy unless you paid special attention. Why not add flair? How on Earth… Aistel, would that hurt? Linea stood outside the building surrounded by almost a dozen guards. Each wore a full set of enchanted silver armor emblazoned with the Duke’s crest, despite Linea’s protests. However, the reaction sent Linea second guessing his entire plan. The sun shone brightly, and the sky was a beautiful crystal blue. It contrasted horrifically with the people in the streets. They walked slowly, their feet dragging behind them on the dirt road listlessly. They hunched over, as if trying to make themselves smaller. The bags under their eyes were heavy, and their facial coverings stuck to their faces. The bones pressed up unnervingly against their clothing, which itself was nothing more than scraps stitched together. They were covered in filth, and the little bit of skin they did show seemed to be covered in rashes and pestilence. Arms hung no heavy by their owners' sides. Even when splashed by emptying chamber pots, they didn’t flinch. To them, it seemed it was no different than rain. They walked past him completely, only glancing at him with mild curiosity or turning away bitterness. These people… they look like they don’t even have the energy to get out of bed, much less start a revolution. 

 

After clearing his throat and signaling for one of the guards to follow, he went inside the smithy. 

 

He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting as he walked in, but he certainly didn’t expect dead silence. Inside, almost two dozen separate forges sat, encircling a massive furnace. 6 or so smiths sat around a small table playing a game of cards. These are the first people I’ve seen without facial masks… The youngest of them looked no more than 19, and the oldest around 70. They seemed tired, eyes guant, arms and legs wiry rather than large and wide. Their eyes were haggard and tired. Their hair was singed, and scars and old wounds wept a strange green pus. Their clothing was either too small or too large for them. Their shirts either came down to their knees in ragged tatters, or stretched painfully over their torsos. 2 of them were drunk, merely watching the others as they played, discarded containers of ale rolling around on the floor.

 

Linea watched as they played. Some simply gazed at their feet while skipping their turn. When one of them won, they did not celebrate, nor did the losers jeer. Instead they shuffled the deck up again and continued playing. Why were they even bothering to turn up? Linea felt a strange feeling in his chest. He raised a hand, groping for his heart under the layers of cloth. It let out a painful squeeze as memories began flooding back. He remembered the nights when his father spent money on alcohol, and he would go to bed hungry. He remembered the days when he would be beaten senseless for asking for food. He remembered how his wounds wouldn’t heal for weeks at a time. The nights he would go to bed in order to escape the gnawing pain in his stomach. His fists balled up and he began to shake. A vein in his temple began to pulse. 

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The guard announced his name, but it hardly registered. He could feel a tightening around his chest. It squeezed in as it threatened to crush his heart. His head was ringing, and his eyes were losing focus. He put a hand up to steady himself on a nearby wall and took a deep breath. 

 

The smiths had just registered their presence. Good, I haven’t missed too much. “We welcome you to our smithy my Lord.” The man sitting at the head of the table bowed his head towards Linea. 

 

Linea could feel his guard bristle. It was most likely a breach of etiquette. He held his hand up to keep his guard from shouting. Linea massaged his temple in an effort to dull the pain. There was no use snapping at a man who had nothing to lose. 

 

“On behalf of the Vitreal Duchy, I am here to request your services. We request 1000 shovels. How long will it take, and how much will it cost?”

 

The smith gazed back down at the table. “Each shovel would be 15 copper my Lord, and each of us can make 2 shovels a day. As for the total price or time, I will leave it to you to figure it out.” They really are more gold efficient. He had already checked the prices of the materials. It was roughly 10 copper worth of iron for the blade and 3 copper for a wooden handle. Only 2 copper profit on each shovel. 4 copper a day per person. 

 

Linea held his hand up again to silence his guard. 15 copper per shovel, times 1000 is 15,000 copper. As for the number of shovels they could make in a day, 2 times 6 was 12. This smithy could make 12 shovels a day, Ackk. Linea felt a sharp pain flare up in his head. 12 shovels a day, so 1000 is just over 90 days. Shall we motivate them a bit?

 

“My dear smith, may I ask as to why a smithy is cold? Perhaps it is some sort of magic that prevents me from feeling the heat!” Linea made his voice scornful, as if he was mocking them.

 

“There's nobody with enough money to buy anything. You nobles made sure of that.”

 

“Still, to think you call yourselves men with such faces.” Linea gave an exaggerated sigh. “Are you old men trapped inside the bodies of men decades younger? I feel sorry for your wives.”

 

One of the drunken smiths sneered at him. He looked no older than 25. He was short, more than a full head shorter than Linea. “Ya’ prissy nobles,” he spat out, shocking the other 5 smiths. “Ya’ live in your golden mansions, away from the rest of us. Ya’ steal and rape our women, Ya’ take our children as slaves. You don’t do nothin’ for this city, yet ya still get to lord over it like some kinda god.” One of the smiths lunged over to try and silence the man speaking, but he slapped his hand out of his face. “Don’tchu try and shut me up!” he said with a slight slur. He turned back to Linea in disgust. “Meat, ya know… some o’ us, we ain’t never had meat in our lives before. Hell, some o’ us can’t even fill our bellies, yet ever’day ya have a feast, with enough food to feed a dozen peoples. Do tell’ oh great lord of ours, what exactly makes a man outta’ ya? You ain’t never done nothin, contributed nothin, so what makes you so special you prissy little brat?” The guard began to draw his sword, which upon noticing, the man began laughing. 

 

“Befo’ ya kill me, I should introduce meself.” He stood up, nearly tripping over himself. With a grossly overexaggerated curtsy, “James Leaven.”

 

“James huh, very bold of you to raise your voice at the son of a Duke.”

 

James scoffed. “What’ll ya do? Kill me? Go ahead. In fact, kill my wife and child too. Put ‘em out of their misery. I can die knowing they didn’t have to suffer any longer.”

 

“I can always resort to torture.” James waved Linea away as if he was dismissing him and sat back down at the table with a heavy thud while the other smiths turned sheet white. They probably thought they would all be punished for James’s rude behavior. 

 

Linea broke the glare he had on James and looked up at the oldest smith. “17 coppers per shovel. Can you make 4 shovels a day?” 

 

The old man stared at him in a dazed stupor, while James’s head snapped up, shocked at his behavior. 

 

Linea repeated himself. “17 coppers per shovel. Can you make 8 shovels a day?”

 

The old smith responded, “I- Even if you were to pay that, it would still be… difficult.” They seemed a mixture between confusion and shock. While James was staring at Linea with a mixture of confusion and horror. 

 

This time, slower, and with more emphasis on the price: “20 coppers per shovel. 4 shovels a day.” Finally! Linea wanted to laugh. Greed. Ambition. He saw a fire burn in their eyes. It was weak, easily extinguishable, yet the fire was there nonetheless. A swallow. The head smith gazed around at the other smiths, as if trying to gauge whether this was all a dream or reality. He saw him shaking with anticipation as he bowed his head.

 

“Would you really offer us such a deal after…” 

 

“What? Did you mean to say after I was insulted? Hmmm. Yes. Just consider me a very generous and forgiving person. But you still didn’t answer my question, head smith. Can you do it or can you not?”

 

“I be-”

 

“We can!” The youngest of the lot shouted. He turned and glared at the head smith before saying again, “We can make you your shovels. High quality. They won’t be breakin unless you sit an leviathan on top of em’!” The rest of the smiths all nodded in agreement, even the head smith who had gotten caught up in the emotion. 

 

He could see the smiths tighten their fists. All the while James continued staring at Linea. Did he feel guilt? Regret? Was he cursing his misfortune or his stupidity? Did he wish he could go back and shut his mouth? 20 copper per shovel, 1000 shovels. 20,000 copper. 2000 silver in total, 1300 silver for purchases, so 700 profit divided 6 ways. 110 silver per person. He must hate himself right now. He nodded to one of his guards, who went outside. He returned with a second guard and a bag heavy with silver coins. He watched as they struggled to walk with it, the coins inside giving away their presence as they clinked against each other. “Here, it’s difficult because of the armor you are wearing.” He snatched the bag with a single hand, slamming it down onto the pile of forgotten cards. The table it was on gave a shriek as it cracked from the force. The blacksmiths stared. “500 silver. Show me progress, and the rest will come your way. I give you my word.” 

 

Although it was stupid to entrust such a large quantity of money to strangers, there was a reason. First, as the son of the Duke, he had absolute power. Wherever these men ran, he could find them. It wouldn’t be hard either: Money always leaves a trail. Second, it was a motivator. Proof of payment with the promise of more to come. Third, it was too heavy for a person to run away with. It was only because of Linea’s own A- stats that he could lift the bag that easily. 

 

He lay a hand on James’s shoulder giving a tight squeeze. “Now… whatever shall we do with you.”

 

James turned pale and began shaking as he heard Linea’s next words. “I guess there’s no choice.”

 

Linea could feel James flinch as he reached over to the bag of silver and took out 6 pieces. He turned to his guard and handed him the coins. “Copper please, separate bags.” Linea waited leisurely as he gazed at the other smiths. The older ones were fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable. The younger one was looking between Linea and James. The guard returned with 6 bags of 100 copper coins. Linea weighed them in his hands. Even combined, they were far lighter and smaller than the 500 silver coins. He placed one down in front of each of the smiths except for James. Should I play with him more or not? 

 

He decided against it. The poor guy looked like he was on the verge of dying of fear. Linea slowly placed the bag in front of James. He gave a reassuring pat on his back. “This should last your family a bit, yes?”

 

With pale lips, James spoke. “Thank you,” a beat. “My Lord”.

 

Linea nodded and left the room. He turned to one guard. “Make sure nobody steals the money. Head back to the Duchy once they secure the materials.” 

 

Linea secured the mask on his face necessary even for the short walk between his carriage and the smithy. I should get hammers too, for the demolition part. I also forgot to check the food situation. Can’t have a functioning city if the people can’t get the proper nutrients. I’ll deal with the other smithies first though…

__________________________________________________________________________

 

James rushed out from the store with the bag of coins. In fact, it was the same for the other smiths as well. Luckily it was quite early in the morning. 

 

     “Sausage! Give me that sausage!”

 

“MEAT! I WANT MEAT!”

 

“ME FIRST!”

 

“BEEF, HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE I’VE HAD BEEF!”

 

The meat was old, already turning green and could hardly be called edible, yet James in his rush spent almost 50 copper buying enough sausage and salted pork to last his family for a month. He rushed back home with it. As he ran, all kinds of thoughts filled James’s head. What if this was all an elaborate prank? Linea could have already sent soldiers here to take his wife and child just like he threatened, all to see him suffer. I’m almost there, just a few steps away…

 

He barreled through the door as he slammed into the tiny one room home that he shared with his family. It was dingy, with cut out holes for windows and a dirt floor. The kitchen was more or less a tiny brick oven as close to the window as possible. There was no furniture save for a pathetic raised wooden slab they called a bed. On it, his recently asleep wife and child woke up from the force of his impact. 

 

James gazed at the two, his ears ringing. He could tell his wife was scolding him while she tried to calm the child, but he couldn’t care less. I prayed for this day… I knelt down and beat my head against the altars at the church for this day, and it finally came. James began to laugh. It wasn’t funny, yet he still laughed. Finally. He could feel tears running down his face as he began sobbing. It was a strange sight. He rushed towards his wife and wrapped her bony body up in a hug. When I’m done with you, you’ll be so fat you can’t move. 

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